Thursday, December 19, 2013
Charla was my first sympathetic ear as a budding writer. She was one of the few people I shared my dream with, and she was my first source of encouragement. She taught me how to use an Oxford comma and tried to teach me how to type. She always praised the effort of writing, even if the writing itself wasn't her cup of tea. And when my brother edited a story of mine in the same no-mercy style that he edited stories for his newspaper, it was Charla who explained what the blue marks meant and helped sweep up the fragments of my 14-year old's ego.
As I sit here, my heart goes out to my brother and my nephews. Charla was a wonderful woman, and as much a sister to me as my flesh and blood sisters. She is part of the reason I'm a writer, today. And I will miss her terribly.
No updates today. No writing. I will return to it tomorrow, for to not write would be an insult to my memories of her . . .